


Teenagers

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-02
Updated: 2008-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-15 03:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Teen wrestler Angel and goth kid Spike engage in after school activities.





	Teenagers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZoeSmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeSmith/gifts).



> Well, almost a week ago, I asked for requests. I'm going to try and fulfill those requests between updates on the Spike/Dru fic.
> 
> I was a little surprised, myself, which one struck my fancy first.
> 
> This is for **zoesmith** who requested: "I was thinking teenagers Spike and Angel. Angel being his adorkable self and Spike in charge."
> 
> I never thought I'd write Human AU, but darlin', for you? Anything.  
> Spike/Angel  
> Human AU (eeek!)  
> Mild sexuality and wanking. ;)

Wrestling practice was over and Angel had been held back, first the coach had some pointers about the meet coming up that weekend, and then they had to talk about his weight – he was just five pounds off the line between his weight class and the next lighter and he could tell the coach was trying not to ask him to use some of the methods wrestlers used for quick weight-loss. They danced uncomfortably around it for ever until he agreed that he would try to shed the five pounds somehow by Friday. Safely.

He walked slowly to the locker room, tired and sore from the practice and work out, and exhausted already at the thought of another week drinking gallons of water and sweating it out.

“Aw, what’s the matter, jock? Someone piss in your sports drink?”

Angel tightened his fist and turned to see one of the ‘goth’ kids sitting on the steps up to the gymnasium stage, unlit cigarette dangling from two long fingers. The way he had his arm propped on one knee had that cigarette hanging right in front of his jean-clad crotch.

Very tight jeans, those were.

He met Angel’s expression with a calm eyebrow raise, when Angel belatedly raised his eyes from examining the tantalizing bulge.

Angel should have belted him. Or made a threat and turned away – but this kid was gorgeous. No-really alabaster skin. Black eyeliner made his eyes set jewels. Everything about him was… was… woah.

Angel put his hand over the front of his sweats and hurried into the locker room to the sound of laughter.

And that accent! Angel leaned against the cinder-block wall that blocked view into the locker room, playing it over in his mind. Did people really talk like that? Was he an exchange student or just putting it on?

The cool painted brick felt good against his back, and he could feel the sweat steaming off of him, forming droplets on the wall.

He had to get himself under control before someone walked in and saw him. The stretchy sweatpants did absolutely nothing to hide the four-alarm boner he had.

Right. Shower.

He stripped out of his sweaty clothes while walking, tossing them on the end of the bench by the shower room to pick up later. The shower was soapy and wet, bits of paper and hair on the floor – messy as always after the rest of the team had been through it.

He grabbed someone’s abandoned soap off the rack and turned the water on full-blast. His dick was absolutely aching! He sighed as his hand finally slipped around it, slick with soap and giving much-needed friction.

He leaned his head against his forearm, the hot needle-like water pelting him while he watched the soap foam around his hand and drip off the tip of his cock. Oh god, he knew he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be turned on so easily. Not by a guy. If the other guys knew…

He closed his eyes, picturing that face, that assured smile, the lazy way his mouth hung a little open, that pink tip of his tongue playing over his teeth… god that tongue, and that mouth. He imagined what it must feel like, in the wet depths of that smooth pink flesh. His hand sped up, making gentle squelching noises as he gasped and grunted at the sensations.

“Oh, is this NOT the ladies’ shower, then?”

Angel’s arm slipped off the wall with a loud squeak. He turned to stare at the punk, now leaning casually against the entrance to the shower room. His voice had echoed in the space and he was looking right at Angel’s…

Angel let go of his cock. Then covered it with both hands. “Get out of here!”

“Oh, I think you invited me in.” The goth kid sauntered forward. He leaned his head back, regarding Angel through half-slit eyes. “Name’s Spike.”

“I’m kind of in the middle of a shower here?”

“Actually think you were in the middle of a wank.”

Angel’s dick twitched, not nearly as embarrassed to be caught out as the rest of him. He turned his back. “Do you mind?”

“Nah. You go on ahead. View is lovely from here. Your bum squeezes a right peach when you fuck your hand.”

Angel dropped the soap. He turned to stare at Spike, who was still standing there, conversational, hands in his jean pockets like there was nothing unusual at all about sauntering fully-clothed into the boy’s shower and commenting on another guy’s masturbation technique.

“Oh, let’s not be so shocked, nancy. We both know what you were thinking about, don’t we?” He wriggled his eyebrows.

“No. Who are you? Just… no!”

Spike sighed. He slipped his leather jacket off his shoulders and tossed it out into the locker room. “Just got out of a grueling art class, and I’m just filthy!” He rolled his shoulders. “Think I could use a bit of a scrub-down.”

His creamy white shoulders, half exposed by the ripped-off sleeves of his black t-shirt, which wasn’t doing much to hide the muscular planes of his chest.

Angel swallowed a hard lump. “I don’t know what you think you’re implying about me.”

“Cut the act, jock-boy. I could tell you were a poof even before you practically tripped over your own tongue admiring my hot, tight little body.”

As he said this his palm slid down said body, showing off just how flat and toned that stomach was, thumb trailing lazily, indenting in to a hidden navel.

Angel found he wasn’t turned away anymore, and somehow his hand had returned to his dick. He hastily faced the wall again, reaching frantically for the towel to cover himself.

“You really should go. I… I’ve got a lot of stuff… to do.” Angel winced at the idiotic sound of his own words.

“It’s a public shower. Came to get all squeaky clean.”

Angel tried not to listen intently to the sounds of a zipper going down and clothing being shed, but he was.

His dick was staring up at him, angry and throbbing and bobbing a little, like it was yelling at him for abandoning it.

He yelped and hit his head on the shower nozzle when long-fingered hands touched his waist.

“Here now, love. Not gonna hurt you.”

Angel turned, heart racing so fast he was surprised it didn’t push the water droplets off his chest. He was facing another naked body now, so near to him, hands on his hips. The water from the showerhead passed Angel’s cheek and hit Spike in the throat. Long, sinewy throat. (God, what was wrong with him? It must be lack of blood to the brain. Yes. Long workout, and he hadn’t hydrated enough.)

“No one’s here but us,” Spike said. He tilted his head toward the door. “Saw the coach leave and slipped the janitor twenty to leave the locker room for last.”

“I’ve never seen you before,” Angel said, and cleared his throat. (Where had that come from? Could he be saying anything stupider?)

Once again he was watching the shaded interplay of creamy muscles while Spike shrugged. “Only been here a few months, an’ it’s a big school. I’ve seen you, though.” Spike took another half step closer, looking up through eyelashes now misted with moisture. “Hard to miss, you are. Face like an angel.”

“A-angel?” Angel’s voice squeaked and he cleared his throat, backing away from the hand that reached up to touch his cheek.

Spike was under the water stream now. Eyeliner streaked down his cheek like black tears and the water ribboned between the muscles of his shoulder and chest. Angel found himself breathing very hard and staring down that torso, following the water to where it ran off the end of a thick, uncut cock.

He imagined licking that water, feeling the texture of the foreskin with his tongue, spongy over hard, slick skin and the metallic tang of the shower water. What would it taste like? Musky? Sweet?

And then there was another tongue on his – which, he supposed, had been hanging out a little. Another mouth, wet in a different way than water, slick, warm, inviting. And all he wanted right then was to get as much of his tongue into that mouth as he could, to taste and feel every part of it. He whimpered eagerly, like a puppy, his hands grasping shoulders now and pressing them against the tile wall.

Spike laughed, and it was something else, having a laugh pressed into his mouth. “Didn’t take too hard a tug to pull you from that closet, did it, pet?”

Angel pulled back far enough to growl, “Shut up, Spike,” before diving back in.


End file.
